Trust no one but yourself,she reminded herself.
At least for now, the Web was right.
That did seem like the only advice worth taking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dropping her bag by one of the kitchen table chairs, and leaving Book on the wood surface, Ava went to the fridge without even glancing over at Nos. “Mind if I make myself a sandwich? Man, I couldkillfor a tuna melt right now.”
The confusion in the single word answer that left him would’ve made Ava laugh if she weren’t ready to scream, punch something, or cry. “No…?”
She knew why he was confused. The enormity of what was happening, the first seal having been unlocked, her tattoo spreading—her being unconscious for eight days. All of that weighed heavily in the room. Things had changed.
And they were about to enter into the dance ofhow much do you know, how much do I want you to know, and how much of what I know do you know?Which was the worst kind of game. She hated playing poker.
So, instead, she just focused on raiding their fridge like it was any typical day. Any typical day, and she was not being turned into an empty-eyed monster capable of destroying worlds.
Because she could deal with the act of making herself a sandwich with whatever they had in their adorably vintage,circa-1930s fridge. The kind that had a coolant system up above it in a giant globe and it let the cold air filter down. She’d never seen one in real life, just from thumbing through oldSearscatalogues.
It seemed to be a magical fridge.
Which did not come remotely as a surprise to her at that point.
Because it had everything she needed to make tuna melts.
Taking everything out and plopping it onto the counter, she closed the door with her foot and started going about the wonderfully, comfortingly mundane task of simply…making a goddamn sandwich.
And studiously ignored the fact that there were now three fae standing in the room staring at her. Ibin was now in the doorway, concern etched onto those beautiful features of hers. Nos was sitting at the table. And Bitty was standing by the wall, fidgeting with the cuffs of her Medieval-style dress, picking away at the threads in her nervousness.
“So. Who wants to get this shit-party started?” She dug through some drawers and eventually found a spoon for the mayonnaise. Well, she hoped it was mayonnaise, anyway. It smelled like it. Looked like it. Tasted like it. It might have been some weird insect excretion for all she knew. She wasn’t going to ask question.If it looks like a duck and it tastes like a duck.
“You seem to still be…you.” Ibin sounded relieved, if still concerned. “That’s a good sign.”
“I am. As far as I can tell. For now.” She stirred up the tuna and cracked some black pepper and salt into it. She turned to glance at the three fae. “You two”—she gestured between Bitty and Ibin—“I assume are a no on the tuna melts. Do you want a grilled cheese?”
“Grilled…cheese?” Bitty blinked, as if the words in that order confused her.
“I would love one.” Ibin smiled. “And so would she.”
“You want a tuna melt, Nos?” The normalcy of it all was the only thing keeping her from having a breakdown. So fuck it, she was going to cling onto the act of making sandwiches for dear life.
Nos was staring at her, utterly dumbfounded. Which was half of the amusement Ava was getting out of the situation. “I…suppose…”
“Two melts, two grilled, all day.” She’d worked a summer at an ice cream stand that also had a grill in the back. She quickly discovered she liked being a line cook more than she liked having to serve people ice cream. Namely because it kept her in the back and away from the direct interactions with the customers.
“All day?” Ibin stepped into the kitchen finally and sat down at the table.
“It’s a restaurant thing.” Ava chuckled. “Never mind.” She dug out two cast iron skillets and put them on their gas stove. Another thing that looked like it dated from the thirties. It was adorable. She flicked on the heat and waited for them to get up to temperature.
A minute passed in total silence. Nobody wanted to speak. She certainly wasn’t going to be the one to do it.
Nos was the one to ruin the awkward but relative safety of the silence. Of course. “What happened to you, when you blacked out?”
“Why would I tell you?” She hovered her hand over the pan, testing the heat. “Seriously, I’m not trying to be a dick here. Nor am I ungrateful for the fact you picked my ass up off the floor and hauled me back here. Probably because Ibin shouted at you until you did it, but that’s neither here nor there. But give me an honest answer, Nos. Why,literally why,would I tell you whathappened to me? When I know for afactthat both you and Ibin are withholding things from me?”
Silence.
Melting way more butter in the pan than was healthy—butfuck it—she put down the un-toasted grilled cheeses and tuna melts, and then found other pans to place on top of them to get an even squish. That was the trick, really—the squish. Not too much. Just enough.
